


Between love and duty

by Queenofthebees



Series: 31 Days of Jonsa [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Jonsa, Blow Jobs, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Post-Canon, Sexual Content, slight implied anti-Dany vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13866327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: “She, however, will not give in,” Myranda stated, squeezing her arm again. “She thinks you are his Visenya, his duty, easily set aside for her, his Rhaenys, or so she believes. She thinks she will win him around in the end. So, you must show her that you will claim him if you must. Like a wolf claims a mate.”Sansa swallowed, staring at her friend with wide eyes until she exhaled in defeat, the idea of losing Jon giving her courage to ask.“How?”Day 4 of 31 Days of Jonsa: Bedding





	Between love and duty

“So, that is the famous Dragon Queen,” Myranda Royce commented as she sat beside Sansa at the table.

Sansa nodded, watching as Daenerys laughed and danced with Jorah Mormont. Her eyes flickered to where Jon stood speaking with Sam at the table against the right-side wall before looking back down at her clasped hands.

The war was over at last and the betrothal between Jon and herself had been made official with a feast to combine the celebration of their victory and the new dream of spring, signified in her marriage with Jon.

“Did she insist on the bedding ritual being upheld?” her friend asked. Sansa shook her head, her gaze still focused on her hands as she twisted her fingers together.

“It was a unanimous decision between the Lords and Daenerys’ and her advisers.”

“Hmm,” Myranda commented, taking a sip of her wine. “She is beautiful, like they said she would be.”

Sansa sighed. “She is.”

“I know women like Daenerys,” Myranda continued as if she hadn’t heard Sansa. “She could do great things or she could do terrible things. She is strong, no doubt about that but she is also proud.” Her friend put her cup down and folded her hands together and Sansa could see her friend staring at her from the corner of her eye.

“I know you have heard the rumours,” Myranda continued with a sniff and Sansa blinked up at her friend. Myranda’s lips curled into a grin. “And I know what you are thinking.”

“No, you don’t,” Sansa huffed.

“You’re wondering how a maid could ever compare to a woman like that, a woman who has experience and knows exactly what to do to bring a man pleasure in seconds.”

“I…”

“Of course, being a maiden is an advantage of its own,” Myranda ploughed on. “Jon will no doubt be honoured to claim such a gift.”

“This is hardly the place,” Sansa hissed, casting a look around her in case anyone could hear. Myranda laughed, her head tilting back in her amusement and she reached to squeeze Sansa’s arm.

“She has been trying to persuade Jon to take two wives,” her friend warned, her smile still in place but Sansa sees now that she is playing an act, in case Daenerys’ eyes should wander over to them. Sansa swallowed, resisting the urge to look and see if they are.

“Targaryens are known for taking more than one wife,” Sansa murmured, her voice hitching at the mere thought of having to share Jon.

“Oh? Is he a Targaryen truly now?” Myranda jested, looking across to where Jon is still talking with Sam. “Hmm, he most certainly inherited the Stark look and solemnness. Why, perhaps taking two wives will be the proof of his Targaryen linage after all!”

Sans felt her stomach swirl, the feeling of sickness churning there. She looked back down at her hands, jerking in surprise when Myranda’s own reached forward and clasped her right one.

“In truth my dear, I do not truly think that Jon himself will do such a thing,” her friend assured her. “He will not dishonour you, he will have one wife only and that shall be you. He has clearly not agreed to her suggestion, no matter how often she has tried to persuade him. And I sincerely doubt that he will.”

“Well then, I have nothing to fear,” Sansa replied softly. Even if she couldn’t help but think how she might compare to a woman like Daenerys.

“ _She,_ however, will not give in,” Myranda stated, squeezing her arm again. “She thinks you are his Visenya, his  _duty,_  easily set aside for her, his Rhaenys, or so she believes. She thinks she will win him around in the end. So, you must show her that you will claim him if you must. Like a wolf claims a mate.”

Sansa swallowed, staring at her friend with wide eyes until she exhaled in defeat, the idea of losing Jon giving her courage to ask.

“How?”

***

Jon reached for her hand where it lay on the table. She jerked at the touch, her eyes flickering up to meet his own, surprised at the tender gaze he was giving her, the way his eyes dropped to her lips.

Jon had not been neglectful of her since they announced their engagement. He would often place kisses to her temple or to her hand throughout the day when they were in the middle of council meetings or in his solar looking at letters or when she would sit sewing by the fire and he just wanted to bestow her a kiss.

Still, she hadn’t expected him to be quite so eager for this marriage, to look at her with that hunger in his eyes. She wondered briefly if she truly needed Myranda’s lessons over the last few weeks after all when he looked at her that way, the memories of such lessons made her cheeks flush.

She looked over at Daenerys, her violet eyes were fixed on them but when she saw Sansa looking she gave a dazzling smile. Sansa managed a demure one in return, instinctively clutching Jon’s hand tighter in response.

She was a wolf, she thought, glancing down at their joined hands once more. And she would claim her mate for her own by any means necessary.

***

The fire was burning when they enter the chambers but Sansa felt cold regardless.

The bedding ritual hadn't been awful, not truly, not as much as she had expected it to be. But then, Brienne's hand on the hilt of her sword and Jon's cold glare as he promised to behead any man who touched their Lady indecently had probably stopped them getting truly bawdy.

She had chuckled when Sansa had asked if she was going to take part in the ritual, murmuring sweetly that she didn’t think it would be appropriate for her to be undressing Jon, given the history.

“I would not want to cause any awkwardness,” Daenerys had said, her eyes trained on Sansa over the rim of her cup. “We must all do our duty, Lady Sansa. It will be over soon enough."

And Sansa had felt a rush of indignation flow through her that had made her go straight to Myranda for any last-minute tips of how to please Jon. Daenerys was not going to take him from her and Sansa would not be his second choice, she won't be his _duty_.

No. Daenerys  was aiming for a compromise, trying to convince Jon to have both worlds without consequence. Sansa would not let her.

Sansa had spent enough time with Cersei to know how dangerous a jealous, powerful woman could be. But when she felt envy churn in her own gut, she had remembered how she had learned how to guard such emotions too. She had given Daenerys a warm smile of gratitude, pressing her hand atop of hers and thanking her for her consideration.

She clutched her robe tighter to her naked body as she heard the door open, her eyes clenching shut when she heard it click closed. She opened them again when the padded footsteps come to a halt behind her and Jon’s fingers tentatively trace up her arms until his hands settled on her shoulders comfortingly.

“Are you alright?” he murmured in her hair.

Her breath stuttered on her exhale but she didn't reply. She turned suddenly in his arms, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. He made a soft sound of protest at the harsh push of her lips against hers but as her hands slid into his hair, he moaned and his lips parted. She followed his lead, opening her own as he grasped her hips and pulled her to him.

She could feel her courage wavering and it made her hands slip to his shoulders to move him away. She kept her eyes upon his face as she pushed him, wordlessly guiding him back towards the bed. His lips parted in surprise as his knees hit the edge of the furniture and he fell back on his bottom, his hands on her hips dragging her down too. She parted her legs to brace herself in his lap, hanging them on either side of his own and the cotton of the breeches he still worn brushing her thighs. 

He blinked up at her, his grey eyes wide as she placed her hands on his shoulders once more and leaned down to kiss him again. His hands, which were lying flat on the bed, hesitantly lifted to stroke the top of her thighs over her robe and then settled on her hips as he once more prodded her lips open. She moved back just as his tongue touched her own, smiling in reassurance when he frowned up at her.

"I want to try something," she said softly.

He opened his mouth and she pressed her finger to his lips to silence him before he could speak. She took a deep breath before moving to place kisses up the side of his face up to his ear, her finger falling away from his mouth. She grazed her teeth across the lobe, smiling when he whimpered and shivered.

"Do you like that?" she purred. He tensed, his head jerking away to give her a wide-eyed look.

"What?" he blurted, his eyes flickering across her face. Sansa bit her lip hesitantly before moving to kiss a path down his neck. "Sansa?"

"Let me do this," she whispered. Myranda had told her to kiss and touch him as much as possible. Men liked being the centre of a pretty woman's attentions. She wasn't going to back down now. She wouldn't be Jon's duty and she won't let him think otherwise.

When he nodded slowly, she kissed down his chest, changing a look at him as she pressed a trail to his nipple. His eyes were dark as he watched her, his lips parted as he panted in anticipation. She flicked her tongue across the bud and Jon gave a shaky exhale. She did it again, feeling it harden beneath her and he moaned softly. She moved back, pushing on his shoulders until he fell on his back.

She positioned herself in his lap once more and leaned down to slide her tongue across his chest, giving his other nipple the same attention. He groaned softly and she felt him hardening between her thighs as she continued her ministrations, moving to kiss and lick a path down to his stomach. The muscles twitched, his breath hitched as she edged closer to the waistline of his breeches.

She shifted to her knees and as she reached to pull at the laces he seemed to snap out of whatever pleasured daze he had been in. He propped himself on his elbows, that frown appearing between his eyes once more. 

"Sansa," he murmured, his hands moving to her shoulders to push her back as he sat up.

"Just let me," she said firmly, her fingers curling into the top of his breeches and pulling them down. He grunted, arching slightly to allow the clothing to come away. She licked her lips to hide her nervousness and reached to pull his small clothes down.

"Sansa, what are you doing?" he whispered. But his tone suggested he knew what she planned to do but was more asking her why. She raised her gaze from his manhood and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I just want to please you," she replied, her eyes moving back down. She leaned forward, parting her lips and taking the head in her mouth.

"Oh," Jon breathed, the word lengthened in his lust. For a brief second, he was lost in pleasure as his head tilted back and fingers curled in the furs. And then she started to bob her head experimentally and he gasped, breaking free of the hypnotic pleasure coursing through him. "Sansa...urgh...Sansa...you....nrgh...why...?"

She didn't answer, knowing if she were to pull off of him she would lose her nerve. She instead snaked her arms around and dug her fingers into the firm cheeks of his arse to pull him closer, relaxing her throat.

" _Fuck!"_ Jon cried, his hips jerking up in response. He whimpered as she hallowed her cheeks and when she glanced up at him, he looked like a wild wolf with the wide, dark eyes and panting mouth. He clenched his eyes shut, a series of grunts starting to escape him as he started to rut into her mouth in faster movements. She moaned in response, the vibration sending Jon over the edge with another curse and a sharp gasp of her name.

She swallowed him down, smacking her lips at the strange taste as she moved off of him. Jon fell back on the bed, his chest heaving as he blinked repeatedly up at the ceiling. Sansa hoisted herself up to hover over him again, kissing her way back up to his face. He shook his head slightly as she reached his neck, as though coming back to himself. He grasped her shoulders slightly, pushing her back to look at her as she rolled to her side next to him.

"What was that?"

"Oh, fellacio, according to Myranda," Sansa replied.

"That wasn't what I meant Sansa."

"I want to show you that I can be a good wife," she said, finally looking into his face.

"Have I given you reason to think that I would be unhappy?" he asked, moving to lie on his side and look down at her. He reached up to push the hair from her face and her eyes fluttered shut at the intimate gesture.

"No," she answered eventually. "You haven't."

"Daenerys," he sighed, reaching up to rub his forehead as he frowned again. "Sansa, she isn't...it is in the past. I promise you, I'm not in love with her."

"You're not?" she responded, dropping her eyes down to his chest in case he saw the budding hope in them. He slung his arm around her shoulders.

"No," he whispered. "I'm in love with you."

She barely had the chance to gasp in surprise before he moved above her, his hands grasping the silk of her robe and pushing the material aside to reveal her naked body underneath. She flushed from her hair to her chest as his eyes roved across her form, his tongue darting out to trace his lips as they fall on her heaving breasts.

She shivered as he moved, placing kisses down her neck like she had done for him. He showered the tops of her breasts with kisses as he moved his hands up to cup them, brushing his thumb gently against the bud and rubbing them into hardness. Sansa sighed contentedly at the attention, pleasure stirring in her gut as he moved his mouth down to purse his lips around the now hardened nipple.

He groaned before he started suckling and Sansa gasped, arching up for more. Her hands flew into his hair, gripping his curls tight to keep him held against her. But he eventually pulled off, smirking against her skin when she whined. He kissed his way across to the other breast, closing his lips around that nipple. His right hand drifted down, stroking up and down her thigh slowly.

She jerked as he pressed his fingers against her small clothes, her eyes flickering to his. He smiled, leaning down to kiss her lips as he moved his hand, dipping his hand into the waistband of the clothing, dipping his fingers beneath the barrier until they rested against her curls.

"Mmm, you're wet," he murmured. She frowned, ready to apologise but he kissed her again. "Its good."

"That feels good," she replied, giving a soft sigh as he found something there, a bundle of nerves that made her arch up and moan. He whispered softly in her ear, telling her how beautiful she was, how lucky he was to have her as his wife, how he never dreamed she would feel this good. And Sansa moaned alone with every whisper, her hips rising against his hand. And when he pressed a finger against her, pushing it inside of her, she had to grasp his arms to gain composure at the surprise pleasurable feeling it gave her.

"Good?" he asked gently. She nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the pleasure building up and up and up. She couldn't stop the breathless moans that escaped her as he continued to play with her body like a harp, making her keen and sigh in response. When he pushed another finger inside of her, she gasped at the slight sting. He paused, watching her closely until she felt the feeling ease. She nodded and Jon resumed the shallow thrusts.

"Sansa," he breathed, biting at her earlobe. He was hard again, poking at her thigh.

"Jon, please," she whispered, reaching down to grasp his wrist gently and push him away. He moved back, licking his lips as she parted her legs and reached for him once more. He settled between her thighs, his left hand cupping her cheek as his right grasped his cock, lining himself up with her entrance.

He groaned as he pushed inside, his arms shaking as his hands planted on the furs to steady himself. Sansa winced at the fullness but it wasn't as awful as she had been expecting. There was a slight sting but despite the brief pain, she is overcome with the feeling of how right it is.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, his body tense as he tried not to move. She nodded, stroking up and down his arms in reassurance. 

Jon exhaled, moving his body to lie above her as he started a slow, shallow pace. She licked her lips, feeling the ache start to fade as she became accustomed to him inside her. Jon whimpered softly as he buried his head in her neck, his hips starting to move faster and she moaned in response, surprised at the fluttering feeling beginning in her stomach again.

"Oh!" she gasped, her legs tightening in response as he reached a hand down, his fingers finding that spot he had been touching before. 

Now she was whimpering, pulling him closer by digging her nails in his shoulder, tightening her legs around his waist. The warm feeling was spreading all the way through her, pooling in the place where they were joined as she arched and tensed, her body frozen in a second of pure bliss before she fell limp beneath him with a soft whine. Jon groaned, his hips snapping harder against hers in a faltering rhythm until his fingers clenched in the furs, his back arched and she felt his release spill inside her.

He panted against her shoulder before pressing a kiss to the skin before placing pecks against her neck and cheek and then down to her mouth. She smiled against his lips, running her hands through his hair contentedly.

"Sansa?" he murmured suddenly, rising up to look down at her again.

"Hmm?"

He grinned. "When Myranda was talking about the pleasure you could give me, did she mention the Lords kiss?"

"No?" she replied in confusion, frowning as his grin widened. 

"In that case," he said, already moving to kiss a path down her chest. "It is my pleasure to teach you."


End file.
